I wander through the empty rooms, my footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors, and try to imagine what it would be like if things were different—if Luca loved me, if we were starting our life together with hope and excitement instead of resentment and obligation. But I can't. The fantasy won't come. All I can see is the reality of what I've created.
I change out of my wedding dress and into leggings and an oversized sweater. I know there’s no point in waiting around in my dress for Luca to come back… it will only make me seem sad and desperate. I don’t even know if I want us to have a wedding night, as things are… although I expect we’ll have to, just to make it official. I’m no virgin any longer, but I’m guessing we’re supposed to consummate it anyway.
I wash off the makeup and take down my hair, and when I look at myself in the bathroom mirror, I see the truth written all over my face. I'm exhausted. I look devastated. And Luca doesn’t come home for a long, long time.
I hear the front door open around midnight. My heart starts racing as I hear Luca's footsteps on the stairs, coming closer to the master bedroom where I've been sitting on the bed, waiting for him. The door opens, and he stops when he sees me.
"What are you doing in here?" His voice is cold and distant.
"It's our wedding night." The words sound pathetic even as I say them. "I thought?—"
"You thought what?" He moves into the room, but he doesn't come closer to me. He stays near the door, like he's ready to leave at any moment. "That we'd consummate the marriage? That I'd take you to bed and we'd pretend everything is fine?"
"I just thought?—"
"I've had all of you I want, Giulia." The words are meant to hurt, and they succeed. "I've had you in almost every way a man can have a woman. I've touched every inch of your body. I've been inside you more times than I can count. And all of it—everysingle moment—was based on a lie." His upper lip curls. “Unless you want me to fuck you in the ass? We didn’t do that, as far as I can recall. Must not have been on your list of fantasies.”
I flinch back, my face heating. "Luca, please?—"
"I'm sleeping in one of the other bedrooms." He turns toward the door, and I feel panic rising in my chest. "You can have this room. I'll take the one down the hall."
"Don't go." I stand up, my voice breaking. "Please don't go. I know you're angry. I know you hate me. But please—please don't leave me alone tonight."
He stops, his hand on the doorframe, and for a moment I think he might stay—that he might show me even a shred of the compassion he used to have. But then he looks at me over his shoulder, and what I see in his eyes makes me sink back down onto the bed, my stomach turning over with dread.
"I can't even look at you without feeling sick," he says quietly. "Every time I see you, all I can think about is how you lied to me. How you manipulated me. So no, Giulia. I'm not staying with you tonight. I'm not touching you. I'm not giving you anything except what I'm legally obligated to provide."
"Luca—"
"Goodnight." He walks out, closing the door behind him.
And I feel like I’m going to shatter into pieces.
I collapse onto the bed and sob—over what I've lost, what I've destroyed, and for the man I love who can't even stand to be in the same room with me. I cry for the baby growing inside me who will be born into this cold, loveless marriage.
I cry until there are no tears left, until my body is exhausted and my throat is raw and my chest aches. And then I lie there in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, listening to the silence of our perfect new house, knowing that this is my life now.
This, forever, until death do us part.
—
The next morning,I wake up with swollen eyes and a pounding headache. I can hear Luca moving around downstairs, and for a moment I consider staying in bed and hiding from him, avoiding the inevitable confrontation. But I can't hide forever. I force myself to get up, wash my face, brush my teeth, and make myself presentable. Then I go downstairs, my heart pounding with anxiety about what I'm going to find.
Luca is in the kitchen, making coffee. He's already dressed for the day in dark jeans and a black T-shirt, his hair still damp from the shower. He doesn't look at me when I enter.
"We need to establish some ground rules," he says without preamble, his voice flat and businesslike. "If we're going to make this work, we need to be clear about expectations."
"Okay." My voice is hoarse from crying.
"First, we have separate bedrooms. You can have the master. I'll take the one down the hall. We don't share a bed. We don't—" He pauses, and I can see his jaw tighten. "We don't have a physical relationship. That part of our relationship is over."
I want to argue, but I’ve learned by now that there’s no point. I force myself to nod. "Understood."
"Second, in public, we present a united front. We're a happy couple. We're in love. We're excited about the baby. No one—and I mean no one—can know the truth about our relationship. Do you understand?"
I sink down onto one of the stools at the kitchen island. "Yes."
"Third, you take care of yourself and the baby. You go to all your doctor's appointments. You eat properly. You don't do anything that might put the pregnancy at risk. Because that childis the only reason I'm here, Giulia. The only reason I'm going through with this."
